


“Me Too”

by Cherry_Pye



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean/Sam - Freeform, First Time, Longing, M/M, Sam/Dean - Freeform, Slow Build, Smut, Teasing, Top Dean Winchester, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 16:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19154419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherry_Pye/pseuds/Cherry_Pye
Summary: Dean reflects on what he’s recently read in Sam’s diary while the two watch a movie together, trying to come to terms with his own feelings for his little brother and slowly initiating physical intimacy that rapidly progresses beyond the point of no return.





	“Me Too”

**Author's Note:**

> -very graphic sexuality between teen-Sam and Dean. Be warned!

Dean’s eyes were glued helplessly to the strip of exposed skin between the top of Sam’s pajama pants and the bottom of his t-shirt, and he was thankful at least for the fact that Sam was stretched out in front of him on the couch facing the TV, which meant that Dean could get away with blatantly staring.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d read in Sam’s journal less than a week ago, feeling a fresh stab of guilt that he’d invaded Sam’s privacy like that, but fuck…the journal had just been…RIGHT there, lying open so damn tantalizingly on Sam’s bed to the page he’d just been writing in, and…

Well, long story short…curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Except, what he’d read…what he’d read, he hadn’t even been remotely prepared for, and he’d spent the six days since then trying both to process everything he’d found out and to study Sam whenever he could manage it sneakily enough, working through his own complicated feelings for his little brother in the process and struggling through seemingly endless back and forth battles inside his head while he puzzled through what he was going to do with the information, not to mention with his own…urges...IF he was even going to do anything at all.

In fact, he thought he’d convinced himself to bury it, this…this thing that absolutely shouldn’t exist in the first place, to shove it deep down where it belonged, deep down where it was just an inappropriate thought, not an inappropriate action, but the problem with that plan was that he couldn’t seem to stop himself (no matter how hard he tried) from obsessing more and more heavily with the notion of having it, of…having Sam…all of Sam, and it simultaneously terrified him and turned him on so intensely that it was close to overwhelming.

And tonight, it was just the two of them for the first time since he’d discovered his brother’s secret, and Sam had climbed onto the couch to lay himself down in his favorite ‘little spoon’ position a mere two inches from Dean…and he smelled so damn good, and his shirt was too small…too tight...and it probably also didn’t help that Dean currently had more whiskey than blood pumping through his veins, which was just…fucking great.

Jesus…

He wanted it more than he could ever remember wanting anything.

Sam shifted with a quiet sigh, the movement hiking his shirt up even further and revealing the tiniest corner of a bandage taped to his waist that covered the mostly healed gash he’d gotten from a sharp rock about a week and a half earlier (falling off a bike, of all the damn things).

Dean had insisted on being the one to patch him up, even though Sam could have easily managed it on his own, but Dean had been searching out excuses to touch Sammy ever since it had become evident that they both should have long outgrown their physical closeness and Dean had forced himself to conform, at least somewhat, to outside expectations.

As Dean raked his gaze over every centimeter of the new stretch of exposed skin, he suddenly had an impulsive, probably largely alcohol-fueled idea that immediately warmed his stomach, his hand rising from his own hip to slowly, carefully, ever-so-lightly lower into a brush against the frayed edge of Sam’s bandage.

His heart skipped as Sam’s muscles instantly tensed at the contact and his fingers were already working at his brother’s shirt, sliding in now to splay out over the full square of frayed gauze and playing with its loose threads while Sam glanced at him very quickly and nervously over his shoulder.

“How’s…this healing?” Dean offered softly, more as an explanation for what he was doing than as an actual question, and Sam exhaled much more loudly than usual in response, clearly flustered and swallowing twice in a row before managing to answer with actual words, which was such a fucking unbelievable rush for Dean that he knew right away he was going to end up pushing for more.

“I-I…it’s good, it’s…it’s good,” Sam stammered breathlessly, shivering a little as Dean trailed the pad of his thumb off the bandage and onto Sam’s waist directly, circling it over soft skin and feeling utterly enthralled, trying to remember if it had always been like this, touching his brother...(had he somehow just missed Sam’s reactions until now?) and hastily saying something on autopilot to Sam before pretending to shift his focus back to the movie.

Even this one, small, physical indulgence was firing up every neuron in his brain all at once, and he weakly tried to talk himself into being satisfied with what he had, acutely aware of the fact that if DID push for more, Sam would know what he was doing…

But it was like…christ, it was like being starving with a goddamned plate of cheeseburgers right in front of your face and trying to convince yourself not to take a bite…

Knowing the entire time that you’re absolutely going to take a fucking bite.

Or ten bites.

Or fucking fifty.

Dean mentally chided himself for getting drunk tonight of all nights, the full bottle of water he’d forced into his system still doing very little to sober him up and his inhibitions all hazy-soft and just…so far away as his thoughts came alive with fantasies of what Sam might let him do…

Fantasies that started harmlessly enough but swiftly turned so dirty and so detailed and so wrong while he stared down at his hand on Sam’s waist that he half wanted to leap out of his own skin for a minute just to briefly escape the heavy intensity of existing in this moment here with Sam.

Some ungraspable amount of time passed in silence before Dean finally lost the battle of morality and moved off of the bandage with his entire hand, trying at least to do it casually (like he wasn’t coming completely unraveled by the the feel of Sam’s heated skin) and actually holding his breath while he settled his fingers in against Sam’s rib cage, the thick fog of whiskey in his mind triggering a reflexive dig with his nails as Sam pushed uncontrollably into the sensation, a tiny gasp hitching in his throat and his pulse speeding up enough for Dean to feel the rhythmic thrum of it under the pads of his fingers.

God…

He wished he could know what was going on inside Sam’s head, what he was thinking, if he’d been expecting this, if it was even-

“Is this...uh, okay?” he suddenly heard himself ask in an almost inaudible whisper, immediately cringing and wanting to take it back since Sam now knew, if he’d had any doubt left, that Dean was doing all of this consciously, but Sam just nodded vigorously in response without even a second’s hesitation, adding on a hushed little sound that had Dean tingling everywhere and biting down painfully on the inside of his cheek, his cock twitching and his jaw clenching through a dizzying surge of arousal.

He briefly considered trying to come up with an excuse for this, too…settling for a whispered comment about Sam’s skin warming him up that he followed with a quiet, breathy laugh and watching as Sam dug into the couch with his fingertips, replying with a choked-up laugh himself and darting his eyes repeatedly back and forth from the movie to Dean’s hand, not realizing that Dean had gradually shifted enough to be able to see most of Sam’s face in the flickering light of the TV.

It was fucking intoxicating…

Very, very slowly…a millimeter or two at a time (and only about every three to four minutes, at that), Dean urged his fingers upward toward Sam’s chest, not knowing even remotely what he was going to do once he got there but knowing quite vividly what he WANTED to do, his stomach sending little jolts all the way to the base of his neck at the idea of touching his brother there…purposefully and provocatively...at the idea of working Sam’s body with the intent of making him squirm and sweat…

Getting him hard…watching him try to hide it, try to hold in his reactions…

God…

Dean shivered, his throat pulling around a dry, staticky swallow.

“Sammy,” he suddenly murmured, his voice so low and rough that he could barely recognize it as his own, “You remember how I used to tickle your back with my nails, real light, after I tucked you in at night? Help you relax?”

He dragged his nails gently against Sam’s ribs for emphasis as Sam just nodded wordlessly again, his eyelids fluttering wildly and his legs twitching, his mouth falling open around a strained breath so fucking hotly as Dean impatiently…eagerly…slid with his fingers again.

“You want me do it again? Here?”

He tapped with the pad of his thumb to clarify, quickly adding, “Just to…you know…help you relax.”

He realized how utterly transparent he was being, but that almost made it better…hotter, somehow…the guise of pure intentions that was complete bullshit but that still might provide him with an ‘in’….and that could be explained away by his whiskey intake if, for whatever reason, Sam wasn’t on the same page as he was.

The reigned-in tremor that rippled through Sam as he breathed out an almost-gasp of “yes, y-yes” was all it took to fully harden Dean’s cock with an immediate surge of blood, and he had to practically iron his lips together to hold in a groan as he pushed himself up slightly higher onto the arm of the couch, needing to be able to see everything and tugging Sam’s shirt up to his collarbone with a long, hissing exhale.

Starting in the center of Sam’s chest, he skated his nails down in a soft, straight line nearly to the top of Sam’s bellybutton, skimming back up again to move across in a horizontal path from shoulder to shoulder and actually holding his breath as he finally tickled a narrow circle around Sam’s right nipple, not missing the way Sam bit down on his lip urgently in response and trailing to repeat the movement around Sam’s left nipple.

Dean’s heart was beating so quickly and loudly that it was almost alarming as he finally risked a very brief and feather-light downward slide directly over his brother’s nipple (after a third circle around it), the tiny provocation causing Sam to jerk convulsively and whisper out a frantic plea of Dean’s name that he turned to muffle in the cushion beneath him, his breath undeniably coming in shallow pants now as Dean drew his fingers back up and over, slowing down and adding pressure, his head buzzing and spinning with an overwhelming lust for more.

“Feels good like that..,” he purred, gliding up and down over Sam’s right nipple in the same striping pattern and struggling to sound calm, composed…even though truthfully, he was the exact opposite, “It’s just…another way to relax, just something that feels good…like-”

He eased back, hovering his fingers in the air for a moment and again attempting (unsuccessfully) to talk himself out of it before giving up with a hitched huff of air and lowering his hand again to roll Sam’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger, murmuring “-like this” and nearly losing control completely as Sam arched into the sensation, his expression twisting up into obvious arousal he couldn’t hide as Dean continued to roll with firm, teasing pushes.

Dean added his other hand simultaneously now to work both of Sam’s nipples at once, meeting his brother’s eyes for the first time since he’d started all of this and holding the gaze intensely while he turned the rolls into pinches, tightly clenching his teeth and feeling staggeringly dizzy as Sam stared up at him with sheer reverence, choking out, “De-, Dean, I…are you-just…I’m-” through erratic, shivering gasps that were better on their own than every fucking porno combined.

Suddenly, Dean was flooded with the desire to yank the blanket from Sam’s legs, to see if he was hard…to touch him there…

Oh god…

He’d never even come close to this level of arousal…not ever, not with anyone.

It was building as an explosive physical ache deep in his abdomen, and it was pricking at him everywhere…at every nerve in his body, lighting him up, driving him crazy…

He shakily lowered his head to less than an inch above his brother’s, breathing hot air onto the side of Sam’s neck before quietly groaning, “It’s okay, Sammy…fuck, it’s okay,” trailing his hand down the middle of Sam’s stomach to lift up to his hip with kneading fingers before softly adding, “You…do you…want me to stop?”

Sam whined something breathy and incomprehensible, a tremor pulsing down his spine, not replying either way for a tense moment before finally licking his lips and nervously stammering, “Dean, wha-what, um…are you, do you m-mean-”

Dean knew Sam wouldn’t finish the question without knowing for sure, without getting a verbal confirmation despite it being beyond obvious that this had soared spectacularly beyond a brotherly interaction pretty much right from the start...and he massaged into Sam’s hip again, thankful now for the alcohol that was numbing his inhibitions as he actually skimmed his lips across the rim of Sam’s ear, whispering, “I don’t mean…anything that I should mean, Sammy. I don’t mean anything that’s not, uh…if-…if you want, we can go back to just watching the movie…or…”

He walked his fingers down almost imperceptibly, but enough, from Sam’s hip toward his crotch.

“Or…I could…I could keep moving my hand….”

Sam let out the breath he’d been holding in a loud rush, suddenly blanketing Dean’s hand with his own and urging it frantically downward, guiding Dean’s fingers wordlessly under the blanket to the bulge of his own hard cock with a frenzied moan as Dean’s heart nearly exploded into a thousand fragments, his entire body contracting and burning up as he closed the remaining space between them from behind with a growl of, “Oh fuck, jesus, Sammy, fuck, fuck,” roughly fisting around the outline of his brother’s cock through his pajama pants and rolling his own hips in greedy, rapid grinds against Sam’s ass without even ever having intended to take things to that level.

Fuck it. Just…fuck it.

He wasn’t a goddamned living saint, for christ’s sake…

Sam lost it the very instant Dean had touched him and was now crying out in broken-up pleas and whimpers as he unabashedly bucked into Dean’s fist, which was so fucking mind-numbingly hot that Dean felt quite literally drugged by it, thrusting in steady, circular drags from behind and inhaling Sam’s scent as it invaded every inch of him with electric shocks and jolts, his other hand instinctively moving to yank at Sam’s hair, forcing his head back…the possessive move swelling Sam’s cock obscenely and tearing an open-mouthed moan from his throat that nearly ripped Dean apart.

“Jesus christ, Sammy, fuck,” he panted, feeling almost like he was experiencing sexuality for the first goddamned time, which was just…it was just-

“Dean, D-nnnh, Dean,” Sam gasped, groaning frantically and lifting his chin to bend backwards with his head down the stretch of Dean’s chest, “Please, god, p-please, I…unnnh, fuck-I-”

He faded off into a long, trembling sob, the skin over his neck pulled taut in the strained position, and Dean couldn’t resist the urge to shift slightly behind him, leaning down to press his lips against Sam’s adam’s apple while he kept up a relentless rhythm of matching strokes and thrusts, baring his teeth to nip and scrape at Sam’s throat wherever he could reach and suddenly stilling his pumps around his brother’s cock to hook his fingertips below the elastic of Sam’s pajama pants.

“Sammy…” he breathed out eagerly, not asking the question directly but still getting an immediate reply in the form of a second shivering upward arch off the couch and a fresh begging whine of “plea-please, please” from Sam, drawing a low growl from Dean and a rough, responding slam of his hips before he hastily rid Sam of his pants in two impatient yanks, his gaze falling onto his brother’s bare cock and his abdomen bunching so intensely with stabbing heat that he momentarily collapsed under it, his weight coming down over Sam’s side as he sucked in a deep, steadying breath.

As Sam writhed in desperate, dirty, fucking perfect little squirms, Dean worked his own pants down, kicking them fully off and onto the ground with his eyes fixed inextricably onto Sam before moving in flush behind him again, the air violently surging from his lungs as he rocked his pelvis in pressing curls, sliding the length of his cock into the crease of Sam’s ass and nearly losing consciousness as he pinched his eyes tightly shut to wrestle himself back from the edge of cumming just from that.

Sam froze and stiffened every visible muscle as Dean’s cock settled in against him, remaining utterly motionless and silent for an extended few seconds before suddenly dissolving profanely into outright begs, his entire body shaking as Dean hauled him backward with an unyielding arm and his heels digging into the far arm of the couch with desperate little kicks, one of his hands jerking up to trail disbelievingly down Dean’s thigh and his cock pulsing, straining as Dean wrapped his fingers tightly around it, immediately addicted to the sensation of touching Sam so fucking intimately and swirling over a fresh spurt of precum as it leaked down to the top of his thumb.

“So fuckin’ wet, Sammy, jesus,” he hissed, way past the point of trying to verbally censor himself, and Sam breathed out Dean’s name with a thrash of his head, starting to follow with something else three times in a row through pants and whimpers before finally managing to get it out on the fourth try, moving in up-and-down thrusts guided by Dean that lifted him into Dean’s steady pumps and drove him back onto the push of Dean’s cock, gasping, “fuck me, oh god, please, please fuck me, Dean, c-can’t ho-, fuck, I-…I’m…”

Dean’s vision spotted and blurred, his throat hitching with a noisy pant and his free arm locking bruisingly over his brother’s chest as he kissed erratically up the side of Sam’s neck, his hips slowing their assault and his feet twining around Sam’s ankles as he quietly breathed out, “God, Sammy…you’d…you’d let me fuck you right here, right now…fuck, you’d let me…I-...jesus…”

Dean paused to stroke his brother’s hair as Sam erupted into a stream of sobs and swears and frantic affirmations, finally shushing him gently and rubbing half-circles under the head of his cock while he matched the movement from behind with grinds of his hips that were savage enough now to lurch Sam’s entire body forward with each thrust, continuing through clenched teeth with a gravelly murmur of, “I’d fuck you so fucking hard, Sammy…fuck you until you were screaming…god…fuck you until I had to hold you up. You like the thought of that, baby?”

He hadn’t meant to call Sam ‘baby,’ but he was hooked by it as soon as he’d said it, and he hadn’t meant to say any of what he’d just blurted out, for that matter, at least not quite so…vividly, but…jesus fuck, jesus fucking christ…

Sam’s frenzied cries had suddenly vanished and his expression had melted into something that lit the blood in Dean’s veins on fire like nothing he’d never known was even possible, his mind spinning with it as Sam’s lips parted around a fragmented, whispered gasp of, “Oh…god…Dea-….need it, Dean…a-anything, I’ll do anything, pl…please-”

Dean’s own lips parted around a slow, responding gasp.

Holy fuck.

Fuck.

Sammy was-

It was almost too much.

Dean threw his head back with a primal snarl, everything inside of him scorched and boiling white-hot as he loosened his grip just slightly around Sam’s cock, feeling the thick rush of blood and the heavy leak of precum and wanting to keep Sam from tipping over that edge for just another minute.

“God, so fucking needy for it, Sammy,” he hissed, shoving his other hand between them to dig into the swell of Sam’s ass with his fingers, holding him spread roughly on one side and shifting his position to make sure that the head of his cock came down directly over Sam’s hole with each forward rock…hard enough to work the tight ring of muscle into nearly opening for him before continuing his downward glide and then repeating the thrust, “I’d cum so fucking deep inside of you, Sammy...fill you right up with it…fuck...make you cum for me first, though...just from my cock, baby…think you could do that for me?”

Sam swiftly seized up everywhere all at once like he was dying, both of his hands jerking up to cling to the arm Dean was using to work his cock and his thigh muscles contracting and expanding convulsively with each push of pressure against his ass from Dean’s cock.

Dean tightened his fist around Sam again in response with a breathy groan, swiping over the slit of his brother’s cock with each rapid stroke now…knowing he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer under the influence of Sam coming unraveled like this so goddamned beautifully and wanting…no, needing…to see Sam cum for him first before he gave in and followed suit.

“I’m gonna do it…gonna fuck you, Sammy,” he growled, watching Sam’s eyelids start to lower heavily over his blown pupils and sucking in shallow, quick, anticipatory breaths, “Gonna be the one, and when I do…”

He broke off, slowing his thrusts again to curve in pointedly with just the dripping head of his cock against Sam’s hole, twitching his hips in little pushes and finally shifting his grip on Sam to start up the home-run stroke that he knew, without a doubt, would have his brother cumming in seconds, finishing his paused sentence with a low hiss of, “-and when I do, baby…I’m make sure that you won’t ever…ever be able to forget it.”

While he spoke the last four words, he jerked with his hips, opening Sam just partially around the very tip of his cock and timing it with a strong swipe directly over the sensitive ridge under the head of Sam’s cock, growling out his brother’s name as Sam instantly spasmed violently, his stomach flexing in defined ripples as the cry on his lips turned into a silent, open-mouthed sob, his nails drilling into Dean’s arm like tacks pushed into a wall while he came like he hadn’t cum in fucking months, shooting in heavy pulses into Dean’s fisted pumps and slamming his head back haphazardly, his eyes fully rolled and his skin glossy with a hot layer of sweat.

Dean was so unbelievably turned on by the sight of it…by the sight of his little brother collapsing into a dirty, begging mess…giving himself up so goddamned eagerly…his cock, his ass…fuck, all of him...that he didn’t even process the fact that he was on the verge of cumming himself until a single second ahead of time, his breath stuttering to an instant standstill in his throat and the hand he’d been using to spread Sam’s ass dropping urgently down to his cock...not even managing to get through a full stroke before he was scrambling backward against the cushions behind him with a snarl of Sam’s name on repeat, roughly dragging the head of his cock up the crease of Sam’s ass and marking him there possessively as Sam’s own cock twitched through another mostly-dry pulse in response, a wrecked and sexier-than-fuck groan tearing from his throat and once again hazing over Dean’s vision.

Dean had almost lost his voice to a grating scratch by the time he finally quieted with a deep, trembling sigh, immediately wrapping the full stretch of his arms around Sam and tugging him close, their chests heaving in time together as Dean lowered them into a back-to-front embrace, massaging into his brother’s damp, shivering skin and slinging one leg protectively over both of Sam’s.

He didn’t know what to say…what he wanted to say or what he should say, so he didn’t speak at all, choosing instead to just tighten his hold around Sam while he reeled dizzyingly with the intensity of what he’d just done...what they’d just done…with the fact that everything…everything…was out in the open now between them.

Sam pressed back against him, still trembling, his breath slightly less ragged but still quick and shallow as he turned his head to meet Dean’s gaze with an awestruck, overwhelmed expression etched into his blood-rushed face.

“I-…I’m, Dean I have to say something,” he panted softly, sucking his lip anxiously in between his teeth and averting his eyes, “It wasn’t just about…I mean for me, I have-it’s…”

Dean smiled as Sam struggled to get it out, tingling warmly at the fact that his brother was still trying to explain this in words like it wasn’t already undeniably clear and cutting Sam off with a quiet whisper of, “Yeah. I know, Sammy. It’s okay. I know.”

He paused, bending to kiss the top of Sam’s head, pressing his lips into mussed hair and lingering there for a long moment before finally easing back.

“And, hey…Sammy…I, uh, just…me too.”

 


End file.
